


He Was a Sk8er Boi

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Normal AU, Song fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a boy. Sam . . . was also a boy. Could Cas make it any more obvious?<br/>Sam was a punk. Cas did ballet. What more could he say?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosworms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosworms/gifts).



> So a stupid text post on tumblr turned into a friendly competition with the loverly rosworms, and this happened. Posted on AO3 simply so I could have multiple chapters.

He was a boy. Sam . . . was also a boy. Could Cas make it any more obvious why they couldn’t be together?

            As if that weren’t enough, Sam was a punk. Not as much as his brother Dean, of course, but enough that it mattered. He wasn’t in the orchestra, any of the dance groups, hell, not even any sports teams. He was just a loner who played bass guitar in his brother’s band, skateboarded to and from school since his brother (and subsequently, his car) dropped out, and who probably didn’t even know what _en pointe_ meant.

            What more could Cas really say on the matter?

            Of course, Sam didn’t seem to care one lick about the boundaries between them. He wasn’t terribly obvious in his flirting, but it was no secret that he had it bad for Castiel Novak – one of the most promising ballet dancers in the country and well on his way to making a name for himself. He didn’t care that they came from two totally different backgrounds and were heading in two totally different directions in life. He still followed Castiel around like a lovestruck puppy, performing bad love songs in the quad every now and then and winking when he caught Cas watching.

            But as much as he wanted to . . . Cas couldn’t lie to himself. He liked Sam just as much as Sam liked him. He imagined dancing for him, just for him, to a song that they had a connection to. A song they could call theirs. He imagined pulling Sam up to dance with him, and although his movements would be clumsy, it would be perfect and intimate. And when Sam stumbled, Cas would stumble too, and they’d collapse on the floor together and laugh and maybe they’d even lean close enough to –

            “ _Castiel_!”

            Cas immediately snapped out of his fantasies. Right. He was supposed to be dancing now – just warmups but he was already messing up.

            “ _Allegro_ , Castiel, _allegro_ ,” his instructor criticized, firm but not angry, despite the fact that this was not Cas’s first such mistake this week.

            “Apologies,” Cas mumbled embarrassedly. He was the only one in the room, but it was still horrifying to be caught off-guard.

            “Where has your head been lately?”

            Cas thought of Sam again. Of the contrast they would make with Sam’s baggy jeans and his own form-fitting tights. Of what a perfect juxtaposition that would make.

            Then he thought of the talent scouts that would be at his next recital. The possibility of failure was a heavy one, and not just because of the scouts, but because his family would likely disown him if he didn’t make a name for himself in the ballet community. They were all such high achievers – Uriel a renowned theatrical actor, Raphael a household name in the operatic world, Gabriel somehow excelling in the bassoon of all things. . . . No, failure wasn’t an option.

            Not to mention the teasing he already endured from receiving Sam’s affections. But the teasing was laced with undertones of threats, every Novak knowing that one simply didn’t focus on relationships before careers, especially relationships with the lower class. And the Winchesters were the lowest of the low.

            Castiel swallowed before standing up straight, his head once again screwed on tight. “It’s been wandering, sir,” he answered. “But not anymore.”

            “Good,” his instructor smiled. “Now, _Échappé._ ”

* * *

 

“Really, dude?” Dean laughed.

  
            Sam punched his shoulder with enough force to thrown him off balance. “Dude. I came to you for advice, not so you could laugh at me.”

  
            “Okay, okay, fine,” Dean calmed down seriously. If his little brother wanted relationship help, he would do his best. “Honestly? I think you should give it up.”

  
            “ _What_?”

 

            “You heard me. Give up on Novak. He has a pretty face, but his head is – “ Dean raised his hand up with an ascending whistle for emphasis, “ – way up in space. Just like every other Novak. And you know they all stick up their noses at us anyway.”

           Sam grimaced. He really didn’t want to think about that. Castiel was giving him signs that – if he wasn’t misreading them – meant he was interested in him. Just thinking about the looks Cas sometimes gave him made his stomach flip and his throat close up.

            “I can’t give up on him, Dean,” he said softly, refusing to look his brother in the eyes. “I . . . I think I love him.”

            “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dean groaned, but it wasn’t in exasperation. It was something like concern, realisation of just how deep into this Sam was. “Okay, fine,” he acquiesced. “If you want him, you gotta earn him. You realise that right?” Sam nodded. “If you can impress him, or get his attention . . . it’s a long shot, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but you might be the person who can bring him back down to earth.”

            Sam’s smile was blinding, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back. He just prayed his little brother didn’t get his heart broken.

* * *

 

He planned it out carefully. The Novaks were old fashioned, obviously, so he’d woo Castiel properly. Flowers and love letters and all that jazz. And he’d be a perfect gentleman about it all.

            Except that, for some reason, Cas seemed to have completely shut down since their last meeting. He was cold to Sam, and everyone else for that matter. Everything Sam offered him was met with a curt “No thank you,” whether it be a flower, something that reminded Sam of Cas, or even just a compliment.

            But Sam was not to be deterred. He wasn’t sure what had happened to make Cas shut him out like this, but he suspected that it had something to do with his family. And dammit, he wanted to be with Cas more than anything else he’d ever wanted in the world.

            So he waited until he could catch Cas alone – after rehearsal. He ambushed – yes, ambushed; he wasn’t afraid to admit it – Cas in the changing room, waiting until he was decent, of course. Not that it wasn’t hard to keep his eyes off that body. Dean hadn’t been lying when he said he was pretty.

            As soon as Cas zipped up his duffle bag, Sam stepped forward, making sure his steps were audible so he didn’t scare Cas.

            “H-hey, there, Cas,” he greeted, suddenly a million times more nervous than he was before.

            “What are you doing here?” Cas demanded, immediately tensing up but not even dignifying Sam with turning around.

            “I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

            “Can’t you take a hint?” Cas sighed exasperatedly, desperately trying to keep his emotional wall up. He really couldn’t handle this right now.

            “Yeah. That’s why I’m here. I – I really like you, Castiel. And I think you like me too. And no matter what your family says – “

            “Is that right?” Castiel laughed humourlessly. Even . . . cruelly. “You think I like you?”

            “Well, yeah,” Sam stumbled. “I mean . . . yeah. But you’ve been real closed off recently, and I – “

            “There was a reason for that, Winchester.” Cas spun around, and despite the fact that Sam could probably beat Cas in a fight if it came to it, he felt so very small and powerless in the shadow of Castiel. This was the first time Cas had shown anything but kindness towards him. The first time he called him anything but his first name.

            “What -- ?”

            “Leave me alone, _boy_ ,” he growled.

            “B-boy?”

            “Yes. Playing rockband in your parents’ garage like that means anything, like you can do anything with that. I’m going places, Winchester, and I don’t need someone like you weighing me down.”

            Sam swallowed against the lump in his throat, the tears in his eyes, because dammit, now was not the time to cry.

            “But I thought – “

            “You thought wrong. You’re not good enough for me.” Cas suddenly spun on his heel, slammed his locker shut and shouldered his bag, sparing him one last, “I’ll see you later. _Boy_ ,” before storming off.

            As soon as the door was closed between them, Sam fell against the wall, biting into his palm to hold back the sobs that threatened to erupt with the tears that he couldn’t stop if he tried. And he didn’t. On the other side, Castiel took a deep breath and stared up at the sky, trying to convince himself that this was the right thing, attempting to sew his own broken heart back together with the ribbons on his ballet slippers.


	2. Five Years From Now, He Sits at Home . . .

Samandriel is a curious little one. He’s not quite sure what he wants to do – singing? Dancing? Acting? Lucifer went into art – is that something he could see himself doing?

            Samandriel was still young, but most of their family had already given up on him. If you’re not at the very least training by age twelve, you’re a lost cause.

            Castiel doesn’t think like them. That much has been obvious for a long time, but he goes with the flow as much as he can. That doesn’t involve leaving Samandriel behind. He took his little brother under his wing, so to speak, and was helping him discover himself. They’re more or less alone in the house, all their siblings touring or presenting or doing whatever it is they do. Castiel didn’t have much talent in anything besides ballet, but he tried for his brother’s sake.

            But today was a bad day, a day when Samandriel was even giving up on himself. And as Cas’s rehearsal for the _Firebird_ wasn’t for another couple of months, he figured he could spare a few leisurely moments. He allows Samandriel to turn on the rarely-used television, rolling his eyes when he realises that Gabriel left it on MTV. His eyes don’t even make it to the ceiling, though, when he sees just who’s on the television.

            Samandriel reaches for the remote, but Cas immediately and forcefully stops him. It’s Sam. Sam’s on the television, playing his bass. He’s only featured for a few seconds here and there, as most bass players are, but that’s most definitely Sam Winchester playing in his brother’s band with a singer and a drummer that Castiel doesn’t recognise.

            It’s obvious, even under the baggy clothes that he apparently still wears, that Sam has grown taller and broader and more muscular. Castiel feels something seize in his chest – the ache that never really disappeared completely coming up to the surface, reminding himself of his high school love and the lies he told through his teeth and ballet ribbons.

            He doesn’t know why, but his first instinct is to call Gabriel even as he orders Samandriel not to touch the remote lest he lose a finger.

            “Yeah, I already know,” Gabriel laughs when Cas explains what he’s seen. “We’ve got tickets to see his show tonight.”             “Mind if I come too?” Cas finds himself asking.

            Of course, Gabe doesn’t have a problem with that. Encourages it, even, because even though he, like all Novaks, was extremely successful in the arts, he was also the only one without a stick up their ass. And also he might remember the crush that his little brother had on a certain Winchester way back when.  

           So Cas tags along and stands among the crowd. There’s something symbolic about looking up at the man that he turned down, the one who wasn’t “good enough for me.” Now he’s a superstar, not in the way that Cas and his siblings are, but a star nonetheless. And it’s not as if Cas ever really doubted Sam’s worth, but he can really see it now. He looks so passionate as he plays his guitar, the harmonies tumbling from his lips like sweet nothings. It’s so intimate, and Castiel is taken back to the time when he wanted the intimacy of dancing for Sam. Now he just wants Sam to play for him. If Cas dances too, that’s fine, but he wants to listen to Sam play forever.

* * *

Cas’s cold dismissal when they were teenagers didn’t deter Sam in the least. On the contrary, it made him more determined to prove himself. “Not good enough for me”? “I’m going places”? Well, Sam would show Cas that he was good enough, that he could go places too, that they could do it together if they wanted.

            It’s been five years, and his motives still haven’t changed, but he has begun lying to Dean. He can’t really blame his brother for being concerned. After all, who holds onto a high school crush this long or this tightly? But every verse he writes is for Cas. Every chord he plays, note he sings, song he records – it’s all for Castiel.

            But he’s not dumb. He knows the chances that he can get Cas back, or even that Cas will be familiar with his success, are slim to none. That doesn’t stop him from attending every local ballet tour or hanging out around auditions. Just in case.

            Probably the last thing he expects is to see Castiel on the barrier, the singular stationary figure in the mosh pit as he stares up in something like awe and Sam almost stops playing right then and there. Instead, he winks, just like he used to, and the expression on Cas’s face of mixed melancholy and pure joy fills Sam’s heart with love once again. Gabriel finds a way to sneak them backstage. Castiel doesn’t even care how or why or what he had to do – he follows along blindly because he knows this is where Sam is. This is where he can find some closure.

            He tries not to get his hopes up. It’s been years. Surely Sam’s moved on from him, but at the very least, he wants to apologise. For lying. For breaking Sam’s teenage heart. For robbing them both of something that could have been precious.

            But it’s not Sam he runs into first – it’s the drummer, a tall skinny blonde girl and that’s really the best description Castiel can give because he frankly doesn’t care about her.

            “Hey,” she introduces, sticking out her hand for Cas to shake. He does, reluctantly. “I’m Ruby.”             “Castiel,” he greets curtly, trying to peer around her to see Sam.

            “ _The_ Castiel?” Ruby gapes in amusement, dropping his hand. “The one that told our Sammy that he wouldn’t amount to anything and that he wasn’t good enough for you?”

            Cas swallows thickly. Is that how Sam remembers him? Well, if that’s the case, then he’ll just apologise and leave, since he’s obviously not welcome here.

            “Sorry, guy, but you missed out,” she continues casually. “You’re here to kiss and make up, right? Well, tough luck, ‘cause that boy’s mine now, and this is where your story ends.”

            Cas sighs heavily but stands his ground. “I understand that he’s moved on,” he says, even though putting it into words hurt like nothing else. At this point, Sam elbows his way through the small backstage crowd to stand in front of Castiel, completely ignoring Ruby and oblivious to the arm she’s Snaking around his waist to punctuate her point. Cas spares one look at Sam – only one because any more would be too much for him to handle emotionally – before rebuilding his emotional wall and continuing to address Ruby. “I don’t want to take him away from you. I simply want to apologise for what I said. Obviously, I was wrong.” Then, to Sam, “I’m extremely happy that you’ve made something of your passion. I was mistaken in thinking that you were lesser than me, and for that, words cannot express how sorry I am. I hope you will accept my apology, and even if you don’t . . . If you don’t, I will understand, and I will still be happy for the two of you.” Sam blinks, feeling like he just walked into a conversation that shouldn’t be happening. It’s when he notices how Ruby is clinging to him that he quite literally shoves her away, having eyes only for Castiel.

            “No, no, Cas,” he explains quickly. “We’re just friends. I . . . I really don’t . . . Ruby?” he redirects his attention only briefly. “Can you leave us alone? Please?”

            Ruby crosses her arms, raises an eyebrow, and doesn’t move. Sam sighs and makes an aborted movement as if to take Cas’s hand in his own before thinking better of it. Cas’s hand suddenly itches for the warmth and undoubted roughness of Sam’s. “Follow me?” he offers instead, as if Cas can do anything but obey.

            Sam leads them to their tour bus, towards the back where he shares a room with Dean. By some miracle, Dean isn’t inside with some groupie, so he and Castiel are free to talk in complete solitude.

            “So, uh, you and Ruby . . . “ Cas begins tentatively, not sure if this is a topic he’s allowed to breach.

            “Oh! Yeah, no, don’t worry about her. She was just trying to protect me.”

            As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Cas nods his head, looking like a kicked puppy, and Sam wants to beat himself. Of all the things he could have said wrong, that was probably one of the worst.

            After a beat of pregnant silence, they speak at the same time: “Sam, I’m so sorry.” “Cas, I really don’t know where to start.”

            “You go first,” Sam offers softly.

            Castiel cleared his throat and forces himself to meet Sam’s eyes. If this is his only chance to do this, dammit, he’s going to do it right. “Sam. I know it’s been years, but I still think about what I said to you in that locker room after my rehearsal.” Sam tensed up, but Cas forced himself to continue. “Everything I said then was a lie. I loved you more than words could say, but you were right in assuming that my family had heavy influence over me. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied, and I’m sorry I couldn’t see the man you’d turn out to be, and I’m sorry that I only saw what meets the eye. But I can see the soul inside you now, Sam, and it’s glorious, and . . . well, I’m just sorry.”

            Silence stretches on until they’re both sure it can’t stretch any further. And then it does. Sam’s mind is whirring. To think that Cas has loved him this whole time, that Sam never once needed to prove himself. Not that he regrets the success, but he would trade it all to have those five missed years with Castiel.

            Cas, for his part, misinterprets the silence completely. He clears his throat again and shifts from foot to foot awkwardly. “Well, that’s all I have to say. I am happy for your success, Sam, truly, and I wish you only more happiness in the future.”

            “Cas, wait,” Sam interjects when he realises that Cas is preparing to leave. “I . . . maybe this is inappropriate to say. But I still love you. I never stopped. All these years – and the tours and albums and, just, all this shit – it was all so I could prove myself to you. I knew I would never be good enough for you, no matter what, but I thought, maybe if I did something with my music . . . “

            Cas steps forward when Sam’s voice trails off, taking Sam’s hands in his own with a sudden burst of courage. He was right – they are rough and callused, but so warm and gentle and perfect in his own. Sam towers over him now, but Cas doesn’t much care when he asks, so softly it’s barely audible, “May I kiss you, Sam?”

            Sam’s breath catches in his throat. “Oh, God.” He feels like a teenager again, like that awkward teenager trying to woo Cas and failing. Except now is like an alternate ending. They were both just boys again, together, and Sam doesn’t think he can make it any more obvious just how in love they still are. He hesitates only a beat before leaning down to capture Cas’s lips in his own.

            It’s like . . . well, there is nothing else like it, nothing that can possibly compare to the feeling of finally _finally_ kissing Cas, holding him in his arms, being able to call him his.

* * *

Sam strums a few chords, just to warm up before going on stage. He had been hoping to see Cas before the show, but he knows that his boyfriend – he still smiles every time he thinks the word – has his own things to do. So he strums absently, his fingers finding the chords of _their_ song, the song he wrote for Cas years and years ago, without any thought.

            “Sam!” he hears his name called and looks up, his face breaking into a huge grin when he sees Cas running towards him, wearing nothing but sweatpants – _Sam’s_ sweatpants – over his leotard.

            “Hey, babe,” Sam greets with a kiss. “What’re you doing here? I thought you had an audition.”

            “I do,” Cas clarifies. “But I wanted to see you and wish you good luck.”

            “Thanks,” Sam grins. “You too. I hope you get the part.”

            “Me too. I’ll be backstage after the show. If you need me, you know where to find me.” _In the studio, dancing to a song you wrote about a guy you used to know._ They both smile at the secret meaning.

With one final kiss, deep and longing, Cas presses close to Sam, hoping to make him hard before he has to go onstage. It was a harmless game they play, because even if Cas succeeds – and he almost always does – Sam’s guitar hides the tent in his pants. Cas bites Sam’s bottom lip, pulling a whine from Sam’s throat, and growls, using the voice he _knows_ makes Sam go weak in the knees, “See you later, _boy_.”


End file.
